This world nys but a thurghfare ful of wo, And we been pilgrymes, passynge to and fro; Deeth is an ende of every worldly soore.
"Now, Sire," quod she, "for aught that may bityde, I moste haue of the peres that I see, Or I moote dye, so soore longeth me To eten of the smalle peres grene."Geoffrey Chaucer
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